Our Story
by LegacyChick
Summary: She might have made the biggest mistake of her life. Can she recover from it or will the loss of him will be her downfall? Just a short insight into the life and love of Jon (Dean Ambrose) and Tammy (OC). Angst, Drama and Fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there. It's been a long time. Do not get your hopes up, this is a one-time thing. I'm still working on book 3 and a career as a journalist, so my focus is solemnly on that. This fanfiction just needed to get out of my system. You all know Jonathan Good aka Dean Ambrose. My OC might be new to you though, since it's only the second time I post a het-fic on here. Tammy has dark, black locks, sun-tanned skin, her arms covered in tattoos (skulls), a fit physique and doe-brown eyes. Everything else you will figure out during the story.**

 **Italics are flashbacks.**

 **As always, ALL reviews are welcome. Short, long, good, bad. As long as you leave me a few words on how you liked it. I'll post it 5 parts, each one after three days. Enjoy reading!**

 **Disclaimer: Jonathan Good belongs to WWE, Renee Young and himself. I own Tammy though.**

 **Warning: Lots of darkness and a little fluff**

There's that feeling. As if the world ends today. As if there's nothing left. As if you're drowning. As if nothing will ever be the same. And it won't. Not without him. For years, so many years, he was there. Whenever I needed someone. Someone to lift me up, someone to listen. Someone to vent to, to cry with, to laugh with. He was there for everything. Every single fucking catastrophe of my existence. And now he's gone and I'm still here.

 _„_ _Great, a new one. Let's see how long before she runs off screaming." My first day on my new job. I'm just putting up the treatment couch when I hear a raspy voice behind me. As I turn around, I see the face belonging to the sarcastic tone. Gray eyes that tell the story of a man with many secrets; a stubble that shows me he tries to look like he doesn't care, but actually spends a good amount of time in front of the mirror; lips that have kissed hundreds of women and been split open twice as many times, but that know exactly what to do in every single situation. He's accompanied by a long-haired man, a little more slim, a little friendlier looking, maybe even more handsome, but not my type. „I like screaming. I never run though." The dirty blonde looks a little surprised for just a second, before he scoffs. Still, I can see the amused sparkle in his else so clouded hues. His friend laughs. „Fiesty. Maybe we'll keep her."_

Three years ago our journey began. Yesterday it ended. It should have been me.

 _It's been two weeks with WWE when fate leads us together again. Or rather anger. It's a little past midnight when there's a knock at my door. If I've learned one thing in my short time with the company, it's that being the Doc's little helper is a 24/7 job. I've always been a night-owl though, so it's little surprising that I'm still wide awake, glass of Whisky in my hand while surfing the internet. What is surprising though, is the man on the other side of the door. „Hey... I... well, I didn't know where to go." The doc or the hospital are the obvious answers that want to slip past my lips, but as I take in his drowsy, empty gaze and his rain-drenched, brawl-scraped clothes, I bite back my retort and usher him inside. He looks a little lost in my hotel-room, chewing his gum absentmindedly, surveying is surroundings with a far away look. Only when I clear my throat, he seems to snap out of whatever dream he was in. „Let me see." I gesture to the hand he's been holding ever since I opened the door. He eyes me warily for a few seconds -and for a moment I get all self-conscious, wearing only some hotpants and a shirt that reaches past my butt but covers little of my shoulders. I didn't expect company after all. He doesn't comment on it though and after a few moments, he steps closer without a word._

 _I ignore the scratches on his forehead and the cut on his lip in favor of the obviously most pressing matter. As I take his hand in mine and he immediately flinches, I contemplate to ask what happened, but something tells me that he's the kind of guy who only speaks when he wants to, and I drop the thought again. I can see that nothing is broken. On first sight it's only some banged up knuckles and a bruised wrist. Nothing some ice and a salve can't heal. „Sit down. I'm gonna be right back." He eyes me a little suspiciously before he shrugs his shoulders and makes his way over to my bed. It's the only possibility to sit in this hotel-room. He's probably used to twice as much space, but for me this room is luxury, compared to where I've lived before. I make the few steps towards the bathroom too fetch the fist-aid kit. When I return, I see Grumpy eyeing my half-empty glass on the night-stand with great interest. „Johnny Walker. Want some?" A glass a night is all I ever drink, too vivid the memories of the past. Something he doesn't need to know. He raises a brow at me, his gray orbs unreadable, his whole body in defensive mode. „I promise I'll leave the poison out." I stay right where I am, quietly waiting for his decision, watching as he seemingly relaxes just the slightest bit and nods his head in silent answer. I pour him a dink and hand it t him, before silently kneeling down in front of him. He hasn't said a single word since stepping into my room, so his rough voice startles me a little. „You haven't asked what happened." It's more of a statement than a question. I look up from the first-aid kit to see him questioningly staring down at me, his gaze so burning, so intense, that I need to look away again before answering. „I'm neither your mother nor your girlfriend." I busy myself by pulling out everything I need to tend to his wounds, stopping only when he snorts. „As if they'd care." I look up again to find him taking a big swig of his Whisky and I could swear, I see a hint of remorse in his eyes. I don't comment on it though. I've met guys like him before. I know guys like him. I don't get involved with guys like him... anymore._

He's proven me wrong again and again after that night. I'd never met a guy like him before. I'd never known anyone like him before. He might have been rough on the outside, like he didn't give a damn about anything and anyone, a loner, an introvert, but he was the most loyal, the kindest, the man with the biggest heart I've ever met. Stubbornness and madness aside. It's what made him unique.

 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi there. No big wave this time. Italics are flashbacks again.**

 **Disclaimer: Jonathan aka Dean still belongs to WWE and himself. Tammy still has no new master.**

 **Warning: Still Angst... and Fluff**

 _„_ _Why do you care?" Jon's question surprises me a little. It's been a year since he'd first shown up in my hotel-room and we are in the exact same spot again. I've lost count of how many times I had to patch him up again since then, always a glass of Whisky passing back and forth between us. The words have become more with each night spent together. By now you could almost call us friends. Quite an accomplishment when it comes to Jon. „Why wouldn't I?" There's a lot of reasons why I care, why I patch him up again and again without judging or questioning him. Knowing Jon though, he wouldn't believe any of the reasons coming out of my mouth. If there is anyone on this planet with less self-esteem and more self-doubts than me, it's definitely him. A stranger would never guess that. His lips quirk up in a small smile before he takes a sip of his drink. I smile back, finishing up the bandage around his knuckles. Getting up from the floor, I grab my own drink off the table and plop down next to him. He pats my thigh and leans against me. „I like you, Sanchez. It was good that we kept you."_

I shouldn't have been driving yesterday. Not at a time like this. Not after a fight like that. Not while we were both drunk. Not with him sulking in the passenger-seat. Not after they'd kind of kicked us out of the pub for the scene we'd caused. I shouldn't have done many things.

 _„_ _That's the ugliest face I've ever seen." I pout at him, setting down the plates for us. We're both half-naked, barely awake. While he'd made us coffee, I'd made pancakes. With faces. „It's food. Be lucky I cook for you." I stick out my tongue at him, before placing my panties-covered butt on the seat opposite to him. Somewhere along the way, we started taking turns at sleeping at each others places on our rare times off. Barely platonic. It's turned into a habit I never want to miss again. He brushes his foot against my bare calf and I look up from my plate into his mischievously sparkling grays, that smug trademark smirk of his plastered on his lips. „I'm lucky to have you. I could get used to you cooking for me." I scoff at him, though only halfheartedly. Dipping my finger into the whipped-cream on my plate, I watch the smirk slip from his lips and his eyes widen a little. He doesn't stop me though, when I smear the sticky, white treat onto his cheek. „And I could get used to annoying you." Before I can withdraw my finger, he snatches it. His tongue darts out so quickly, that it catches me completely off guard. The almost pornographic moan leaving his lips as he licks my finger clean, stirs something buried deep, very deep inside of me. „You could never annoy me, Sanchez."_

It's true. In all those years, we never fought. Until yesterday. We understood each other way too good to ever get annoyed, to ever become frustrated with the other. Until yesterday.

 _„_ _What do you mean, 'No'?" I brush back my hair and tangle it up in a loose bun as Jon follows me into the bathroom. I can hear that I've hit a nerve. „Jon, you know us. I need my space just as much as you do. Moving in together wouldn't end well." It's a lie. We connect so well, everything would probably go perfectly smooth. I'm just scared. To take the next step. To let someone in again. For my future. For our future. „So screwing around is really all you want?" I roll my eyes as I give myself a last once-over in the mirror. That is surely not what this is and what I want. Jon knows that as well as I do. We spend most of our time together, ever since that night that he'd just kissed me out of the blue and I'd let him. I sigh and brush past him into my bedroom. We still have the habit of staying at each others on our days off. Deciding for one joined apartment though is a completely different thing. For me and my fucked up brain at least._

 _„_ _Our friends are waiting." I slip on my heels and stuff my keys into my purse, hoping to finish the topic before we meet up with Colby and Kevin at the pub. „So let them." He stands with his arms crossed, leaning against the door-frame, clearly not wanting to end our talk just here. „Shit, we're fucking each other for a year now. We're practically spending every single spare second with each other. Where's the problem in saving some money by turning two apartments into one?" In three years we've never once fought. We didn't even have a single discussion. I love harmony. Not very surprising after all the shit in my past. As soon as someone raises their voice, I get defensive. I walk away. Now though, I am too surprised to do just that. Instead, I just give up. „Fine. If you wish, let's move together. Now can we leave?" I do not wait for Jon's reaction, or an answer, I just snatch the car-keys off the night-stand and storm out_.

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**We're getting close. Thanks everyone for reading. Italics are flashbacks. You definitely know that by now ;)**

 **Disclaimer: Jon owns Jon, Tammy owns Tammy, I own a screwed up mind... as do they.**

 **Warning: Still Angst, still fluff**

I shouldn't have turned him down like that. I shouldn't have let the demons in again. So many years I didn't drink, never more than that one glass. For so many years I was in control. Jon kept me in control, without even knowing. He'd mended my broken soul without even trying. Just as effortlessly, as casual as our relationship started.

 _I'm leaning against the headboard, long legs stretched out in front of me. The day has been long, exhausting, and my feet are killing me. Luckily I have my own personal masseuse tonight. I sigh dreamily and let my eyes flutter shut as Jon lets his hands work their magic on my calves. He's sitting cross-legged, shirt discarded an hour ago. The summer-heat is sometimes your very best friend. „I could get used to this." Jon snorts and squeezes my muscles a little firmer. I open my eyes to see an amused sparkle in his grays. I cannot help but to smile back at him. „Don't get too used to it, Sanchez! I only do it for the free booze." A smirk grazes my lips as I grab for the bottle on my nightstand and wave it in front of me. „You have to work harder for the good stuff, Jonathan." It's hard not to laugh at the pout on his plush lips, but I manage to keep my smirk firmly in check._

 _It falters a few seconds later though, when I catch the hint of mischief in Jon's eyes and the wicked grin lightening up his whole face. Before I can react however, Jon pulls me flat on my back and seats himself on top of me, both his hands on either side of my head. I can't even question him, before his lips are on mine, tongue ravishing my suddenly all too dry mouth. It takes a few seconds, five, maybe six, until I recover and start to kiss back, matching his hunger and intensity in every single way. My hands sneak to his back, the taut muscles quivering under my touch. My legs wrap around his hips, pulling him into me. A groan escapes his swollen lips and he pulls back from me. It's the first time ever, that I see him so aroused, so disheveled, and maybe even speechless, but just as I finish the latter thought, he licks his lips and pushes his hips into mine. „Now that is something_ _ **I**_ _could get used to."_

Neither of us had planned to fall in love, to start a relationship, but when you think about it, we've been an item long before that night. Just without the sex. Sex I became addicted to. We weren't just on the same wave-length character- and brainwise. We were also more than compatible under the sheets. He knew exactly where to touch me. With how much pressure. How to push my buttons. How to make me scream. In thirty years, I'd never experienced the intensity, the lust and the comfort I've felt with Jon. Until I chickened out and destroyed everything.

 _„_ _I don't get it. We practically live with each other already. Why not..." Of course the drive to the pub was filled with silence. Only now that I pull into the parking-lot, Jon opens his mouth. I roll my eyes for the hundredth time this evening and pull the keys out of the ignition, sighing in resignation. „Why ruin the good thing we have with more strings?" I should have just kept my mouth shut and gone inside, but of course I don't. Instead I prod Jon, even though I can see by his whole body-language that he is very close to snapping. „Strings?" He sucks in a deep breathe before turning to me. His fingers are digging deep into his thighs, too deep for my liking. His eyes are flickering with anger, a darkness that I've never witnessed before raging inside of them. „This here... us..." His voice is strained as he speaks. I can see, feel and hear that he's trying his best to keep his voice down. „This here has never been about strings. We just belong. I don't DO strings, just like you. I asked because I'm ready to move forward. Because I see a future. A future I already imagined three years ago. It's not a string to move in together, it's a sign that this here is something... more than sex. That this is leading somewhere." He barely ever speaks that many words at once. He's more an action kind of guy. That's why I let him vent._

 _I understand him. I understand his motives. Ten years ago I would have been right there with him. I would have jumped on the opportunity to move in with a guy like him. To make it official. To move forward. But not now. „Just leave it, Jon. The boys are waiting and I don't want to fight." We are casual. That's why this works so well. We both don't do labels, we don't do timetables, we don't plan. We go with the flow. Take things how they come. As individuals as well as as a couple. I cannot commit and neither can he. Or so I thought. I get ready to step out of my car, but his hand closes around my wrist, maybe a little harder than he intends to. When I turn to look at him, I'm taken aback by the fury in them. I've seen it often enough, but never directed at me. He's never raised his voice against me. He's never misbehaved. Not when I was around. He's always kept his demons at bay with me in the room, even before we became a thing. „Do you even want a future?" It's a question that usually comes with doubt and pain, Jon though asks it as if he wouldn't believe a „Yes", his voice so cold that it freezes my heart. I shake my hand free and leave the car without answering._

He was a troubled soul, just like me. He didn't trust easily, just like me. When words failed him, he let actions speak. Just like me. We didn't need to know everything about each other to understand each other. From that very first meeting in the medics room three years ago, there was a bond between us that neither of us could deny. It's what drew us together. What kept us together though, were the little things. The shared smirks at Colby's bad jokes. The little private moments during hectic houseshows. The Whisky-Glass-passing between us during movie-nights with friends. The quick kisses between sets in the gym. The sunsets from the top of the mountain he dragged me onto every other month. The mornings waking up next to each other.

 _„_ _You're staring." Jon's eyes are still closed, his voice still raspy, his lips quirking up into the tiniest of smiles. The sun isn't really up yet, but I have been for a few minutes already. Just enjoying the quietness, watching Jon's peaceful features while he slept. I have my leg draped over his lower region and my arm over his chest, my finger starting to draw little circles onto his bare skin. „I couldn't resist." Something akin to a purr slips past Jon's lips as his lids slowly flutter open and that tiniest of smiles turns into a big one. „Too handsome, even in the moonlight, huh?" I lean over to him and press my lips to the corner of his mouth, my hair falling over our faces. „Especially in the moonlight." His hand finds a resting-place on my butt, squeezing it as he closes his eyes again. My fingers wander from his chest over his throat to his cheek until they come to a stop in his ashen locks. I start to play with them, humming softly, resting my head on his chest. „I love you." His voice is so quiet that I almost miss the words, but the baritone vibrating through me carries them straight to my heart. I should be surprised by his words, scared even, but a smile tugs on my lips as I press them to his chin. „I love you, too."_

 **TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas/relaxing holidays. The ending is very near. Thanks for taking this journey with me. Since I didn't get any Christmas-Presents, I'm wishing for loads of comments for this chapter ;)**

 **Italics are flashbacks.**

 **Disclaimer: I only own Tammy. Everyone else in here belongs to WWE and themselves.**

 **Warning: Angst, Drama and Fluff**

We had our own speed. We did things when they felt right, not when they were supposed to happen. The flow. I'm sure I've mentioned it before. I feel a bit drowsy, so apologies for eventual repeats. I'm still far away from my usual state of mind. In fact, I don't know if I'm ever going to get back there. Not without him. I'm scared that the old Tammy is going to come back, just like last night.

 _It is good that Kevin and Colby are with us for distraction. Jon and I haven't spoken to one another since stepping foot into 'Barney's'. A fact our friends luckily aren't commenting on. I try to laugh at Colby's jokes, but I know it sounds fake. Another fact that they don't comment on. When I order a second Whisky though, double, Kevin can't keep his mouth shut. „Wow, a second drink? You wanna go wild tonight?" They are just as used to me only ever drinking one glass, wherever and whenever we meet up, that it catches them by surprise. Even Jon quirks a brow. „One just won't do it tonight." It's all I say and neither Col nor Kev dig any deeper, but I can see out of the corner of my eyes how Jon clenches his jaw and his pupils turn dark. I'm on my sixth double-shot, I think, when my tongue gets a little more loose and my voice a little louder. I'm not used to alcohol anymore, it seems. „Nawww.. why would you marry her? You love your freedom?" Col leans back in his chair with a smirk. All the years I've known him, he's been a ladies man, sometimes more subtile than others. For him to settle down truly shakes my believes in this world. „Yeah, but I love her more than my freedom."_

 _I snicker at that and shake my head, pointing my index-finger at him. „You, Mister Lopez, are full of bullshit." I don't mean it as an insult, really not. My sober self would be happy for him. My drunk self though thinks about Jon's offer again. Luckily though, Col puts my comment off with a wave of his hand and a scoff. A scoff that gets drowned out by Jon's snort though. „Only because you can't commit, doesn't mean others must be unhappy, too." He had at least twice as many drinks as I did, but his voice is a lot less slurry. It's so sober that it sends a chill down my back. The thing about drunken me though is, that I get defensive aggressive. Something none of the boys know. No wonder that they are a little surprised, when I get off my chair and right into Jon's face. „I was happy until today. You are the one who wants to destroy my happiness." Logic was never my strong suit when being drunk. Good comebacks neither. Jon's jaw ticks. I want to jab my finger into his chest for emphasis, but he grabs it and pulls me closer without missing a beat. I almost stumble into his lap. He hisses into my ear. „You're drunk. Leave it!"_

I should have left it alone there. Shut my mouth. Switched to Soda. Saved the argument for our own four walls. Old Tammy was reeling her ugly head though and she's never been one to let an argument rest. So many times we went out together. So many times I've managed to keep myself in check. And in return I got glimpses of another Jon here and there. Carefree Jon. Romantic Jon. Crazily stupid Jon. All facades of him that stayed unbeknownst to the world. That only I ever got to see.

 _The club is almost empty by now. The sun must already be rising. Neither Jon nor I are tired though. We're sitting in a booth close to the dance-floor, watching the few remaining party-goers flirt or beg for one last drink at the bar. I'm in Jon's lap, his head resting on my shoulder. His arms are wrapped securely around my midst while I let my fingers play with the few stray locks dangling in his face. We're in utter bliss, no rush, just enjoying our time together, enjoying the solitude. As the last person leaves the dance-floor, I sigh and cuddle closer to him. „Wanna head home?" Jon grunts a little and shakes his head, his stubble scratching the bare skin on my shoulder. „Not yet. In a minute." Despite his words though, he shifts underneath me, clearly in an attempt to get up. My eyes sparkle with amusement as I look back at him. „What are you doing?" I get my answer a second later, when he suddenly rises from the booth, with me in his arms. I instinctively squeal and put my arms around his neck as well as my legs around his waist, while he carries me away from our booth. „I thought you don't wanna leave yet?" Jon smirks before he nuzzles my neck. His voice is raspy, a little drowsy, and if I didn't know him any better, I'd say he is embarrassed. „I don't. I wanna dance." My brow shoots up at his exclamation, but before I can say anything, he puts me down on my feet again... in the middle of the dance-floor._

 _I cannot help but to laugh. He lays his hands on my hips and pulls me close to him, his gray eyes shining so brightly that they could light up the whole room. I get on my tip-toes to lay my lips onto his before resting my head against his chest and encircling his body with my arms. It's moments like these that make me love him even more. Those rare times when he lets loose. When he surprises me by shedding another layer of the brick-wall he's built around him over the years. He wraps his arms around me as we start to sway to the soft rhythm of the music. I feel his lips softly graze my forehead before he buries his face in the crook of my neck. We enjoy the song in silence, just swaying, just feeling, until the music comes to a stop. Jon finishes off by dipping me low and the laughter rising from my throat echoes through the whole club. „Now we can go home." „You're a dork." He presses his lips onto mine with a big, goofy grin. „Yeah, and you love me for it."_

I can't open my eyes. I haven't since the crash. I don't want to open my eyes, because once I do, I have to face reality. I have to face the fact that I might be a cripple, that I might go to jail, I might loose my job. Mostly though, I'll have to face the fact that I'm still alive and he isn't. I rather just stay here, wrapped up in my thoughts, my dreams, my memories.

 **TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Well, that's the end. Thanks to everyone for still reading. I hope my book will be out in 2019 and you'll all buy like crazy. Else, I'll leave you to it now.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anyone but Tammy**

 **Warning: LOTS of Angst, Drama and a little Fluff**

 _„_ _I'm drunk when I say I am." There we go with the screwed up logic again. I want to storm off for dramatic effect, but Jon lets go of my finger and catches my wrist instead. „Tammy..." His voice is a low growl, one I usually only know from his in-ring-persona. It only stirs my anger further. „Caging me in isn't enough, now you also want to order me around?" My own voice rises and I'm well aware that all eyes are on us by now. Probably the reason, why Jon lets me go. I shake my wrist and shoot him a death-glare before stomping towards the bar. „Whisky, please!" A second later, Jon appears right next to me. „I don't think so." I glare at him, then at the barkeeper who defensively raises his hands. „Whisky, PLEASE!" He shoots Jon a questioning look and my boyfriend has the guts to shake his head at him, which pisses me off even more. „What the fuck is your problem, Good?" He matches my icy stare with one of his own before he roughly yanks at his hair. He shouts, loud, before kicking the bar. I don't even flinch. Even in our state, I know he would never hurt me. „What the fuck is YOUR problem, Sanchez?"_

 _We are joined by our friends a moment later, Kevin putting his hands on Jon's chest, Colby his on my shoulders. They are separating us and only now do I realize that my fingers are digging painfully into my palms and my eyes are burning with hot tears. „Hey, you two should calm down a little. I'm sure whatever your problem..." „Shut your damn mouth, Col." I'm so in rage, so in pain, that even my friendship isn't safe from the demons right now. Colby takes one look at my face and backs away a step, hands raised. Jon's glare turns even colder. The next one joining the fray is some bulky, bald guy, and a quick glance at his shirt tells me that he's some sort of security. I don't even hear what he says, so loud is the blood pounding in my ears. I grab the next drink on the bar, take a big swig from it, and turn on my heels. „At least take a cab!" I barely hear our friends as I snatch my purse from our table and storm out of the pub._

 _The fresh night-air is quite a relief. A few feet away from the door, I sag down onto the sidewalk and finger for a cigarette. My hand is shaking and I curse when the lighter doesn't want to do what I want it to do. Moments later, a small fire appears right next to me and I breathe a sigh of satisfaction when the first wave of smoke hits my lungs._ _When I look up to see who my savior is, it's the man I least want to see at the moment. I wordlessly take a few deep drags of my cigarette, before snipping it away and getting up to stagger towards the parking-lot. Jon follows me in tense silence._

 _Only when we reach the car and I start to search for my keys, he opens his mouth. „You shouldn't drive." His voice has his usual baritone back. He sounds more worried than angered now, and for a second I regret our fight. For a second I remember how much I love him and that living with him might actually be a good thing. Then the last drink hits me again. „I can still drive." „You're drunk." I might be, but I don't feel like it. Maybe the fight has sobered me up. Maybe I'm just used to a lot more. „Believe me, you haven't seen me drunk yet." He doesn't comment on that. He might want to, but in that moment, the car-door clicks open and I hurry inside. Again, he follows me in tense silence._

 _The drive should only take fifteen minutes, but after about five I start to get anxious, the silence killing me. My thoughts are raising a hundred miles per hour. I want to snap and at the same time I want to apologize. I want to tell him my whole story and at the same time I just want to forget._ _„_ _I can't do this..." It's the first time in many years, that I'm on the verge of a full-blown panic-attack. By the look in Jon's eyes he can see that something is wrong. Gone is all the anger. The pain and the pity in those else so warm, understanding orbs are making me spiral even further. „Tammy?" I grab for my purse, my fingers frantically searching for my cigarettes. „Tammy..." I can hear the warning in Jon's voice, but I am too far off to really register it. „TAMMY!" I look up from my purse again in time to see the lights. Jon's reflexes make him grab the steering-wheel and turn it right. The next thing I see is a tree, then I feel the impact. The breathe gets knocked out of my lungs, my vision goes black._

 _I don't know for how long I'm unconscious, but the next time I open my eyes, my vision is blurred. I'm in pain. Everywhere. There's something sticky on my forehead. Something salty on my cheeks. The windshield is broken. There's red and blue lights all around us. Frantic, far-away voices. And then I see Jon on the hood. He isn't moving. „Jon..." I barely recognize my own voice. „JON!" He doesn't show any reaction. I don't hear anything. Can't see him moving. He doesn't show any signs of life. And then the world around me fades to black again._

I cannot face reality right now. I'm not strong enough. But I can feel that whatever meds they gave me, are starting to wear off. I'm aware of a hand on my arm. A cast on my leg. A bandage around my ribs. The pain is bearable. There's a steady, warm breeze of air hitting my shoulder. Someone breathing. There's some beeping that indicates that my vitals are stable, I think. Else it's quiet. I try to wiggle my fingers and obviously succeed since the next thing I hear is a soft, warm voice.

I must still be dreaming. It can't be. „Tammy?" I scrunch my eyes shut again. It's still a dream. A good one. The best one. „Baby? Wake up." That soft baritone. I force my eyes open. It's daylight. That's the first thing I notice. The next thing are Jon's worried eyes piercing right through me. He clasps my hands and kisses my knuckles. „You're awake." His voice is shaking, his eyes bloodshot. I could swear he's been crying. There are scratches all over his face, a bandage around his forehead, his lip is split. But else he looks fine. Good. Alive.

„You're alive?" My voice is hoarse, my throat dry. My cheeks aren't though as a wave of fresh tears hits them without warning. „Hey... Shhhh... It's all good. I'm good. You're good." He gently strokes my hair. He can reassure me as much as he wants to, the tears still don't stop. A sob escapes me and he leans down to brush his lips against my forehead. „I'm sorry... so sorry..." He shakes his head. „It's okay." I can barely speak, my throat hurts so much, but it doesn't stop me though. „I want to move in with you. I want to marry you. I want a family with you, a future. Just don't... don't leave me." My voice breaks at the end. It's all pouring out of me, pain, hoarse throat, blurry vision. My voice sounds alien to my own ears. Jon's voice though sounds like music to my ears as he presses his forehead to mine with a smile on his lips, and squeezes my hand. „I already bought a ring."

 **There you go. I hope the happy ending makes up for the drama and pain. Thank you all for reading. Don't forget to leave me a comment ;)**


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